


Daylight

by orphan_account



Series: A Thousand Demons [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I highly recommend listening to Daylight by Maroon 5 before reading this. </p>
<p>Sam's last night before Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daylight

The last few weeks had been filled with yelling and fights, but tonight the motel room was silent. Dean lay alone on his bed, and stared at the ceiling, listening to the A/C clunk on. It whirred to life, and Dean closed his eyes. The noise was loud in the empty room. Irritated that he couldn’t doze off, he opened his eyes and glanced out the window. The sun was going down slowly. Sam had been out shopping for some few last minute things before he left for college, and would be back soon. Dean closed his eyes again, grimacing to himself.

Nothing had been able to stop Sam. He had been on a straight path, dead-set on going off to Stanford. Dean couldn’t even bring himself to be proud of his brother for getting into such a great college with absolutely no help. Dean was too busy being a selfish prick trying to take it all away. Dean knew he was being selfish, and that he was taking Sam away from his dream. But he couldn’t just sit there and let his brother walk out that door. So they fought and fought and fought. Dean tried absolutely everything, short of getting on his knees and begging as he clutched to Sam’s leg. Still, Sam persisted, and tomorrow he was leaving. Dean had a tiny part of him that was glad his brother would be happy, but the bigger part of him wanted to die.

The door to the motel opened, and Dean looked up at Sam, who carried in a set of bedsheets. Cheap, white things, probably all he could afford. Sam looked warily at Dean, who refused to meet his eyes, but instead stared at his palms. The silence, interrupted only by Sam packing things away, drew out forever. Dean refused to talk, and Sam couldn’t find the words to say.

Eventually, Sam ran out of things to stuff in his bags. The room was small and the tension seemed to compress the walls in further. Sam took a deep breath and turned to face Dean. “Dean, look at me.”

Dean did not move.

“Dean, please.”

Green eyes flicked up to meet hazel ones, and held them there with a dark gaze. 

“Dude, I don’t know what to say. But I can’t just stand here and watch you sit there. If you want to yell at me, go ahead.” Sam opened his arms, inviting Dean’s assault. “Just say something.”

Dean sighed deeply, and shuffled so he sat on the edge of the bed. He turned his head to look at Sam. “I’m not gonna yell at you.”

Sam felt the air return back to his lungs, but he still felt uneasy. “Good, that’s good.” The words fumbled around his lips.

Dean stared at the ground, but started to talk. “Sammy, I know I can’t stop you. I tried, and it didn’t work. That’s not why I’m going to tell you this.”

Sam’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Tell me what, Dean?”

“Sam, just shut up and let me talk.” Dean huffed, and started to speak again. “I’m shitty at this stuff, and you know that. But I-” Dean shook his head slightly, like he’d swallowed too much whiskey. “I love you.” The words felt like vomit in his throat, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam.

Sam was silent, staring at Dean. His mind flickered back to a few stolen moments from the past few years. Drunk kisses in the alleyways, fumbled touches that could almost have been accidents, glances that always lasted a little too long. He didn’t think Dean had ever payed any attention to that. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean finally looked at Sam, biting his lip, and fought down the sting behind his eyelids. Sam’s face was utterly torn, his hands lay defeated at his side, and his chest quivered as he breathed in shakily. In a flash, Dean stood up and grabbed onto Sam, pressing his lips on Sam’s. Sam gripped Dean back with a harsh ferocity, grasping for a hold in Dean’s short hair. Teeth hit against each other carelessly, and Dean dragged Sam back onto the motel bed.

Sam scrabbled at Dean’s shirt, trying to get it around their tangled bodies. The air was filled with the sound of panting, accentuated with the occasional groan, but there was no words said between them. It was nothing but the sheer heat of Dean on Sam and Sam on Dean.

Clothing fell to the floor piece by piece, and when they were both naked, Dean lay on top of Sam, breathing heavily. He looked right at Sam and rolled his hips slowly and deliberately against Sam’s.

“Dean.” Sam panted. “Dean, god, don’t-” He choked off the words in another moan as Dean kept slowly pressing into Sam.

“Don’t what? What do you want, Sam?”

Sam’s neck arched and he groped his hand around, trying to get a hold of himself, but Dean held him back. “Beg for it.” He growled.

“Don’t…don’t stop. Please, please.” Sam’s voice was strained, and he desperately wanted to get some friction. He tried to rut against Dean, but Dean raised his hips so he was just out of reach.

“Spit it out.” Dean snarled again, right in Sam’s ear. Sam thought he might come then and there, but he managed to gasp out a few more words. 

“Fuck me.”

Dean let out a groan hearing the words slip out of Sam’s mouth, and kissed him some more as he lowered himself back onto Sam.

The night passed too quickly, but Dean relished each time he got his brother to yell out his name. He lost count of how often, but he tried to imprint each time in his mind. Somewhere around 3 A.M. sleep took over, and Dean slept curled against Sam’s larger chest. He had trouble getting to sleep at first, but the ache in his muscles sent a dull wave over him and he drifted off.

When Dean woke up, the first thing he saw was the early beams of daylight peaking in through the window. The second thing was the expanse of rumpled sheets next to him. Dean touched the pillow absentmindedly, and found it to be cold. He threw it onto the floor, he threw the lamp, the phone, anything he could reach. He cussed and cursed, and yelled, begging for Sam to come back. 

And then Dean Winchester sunk to his knees and cried.


End file.
